Pushing my Luck
by Loveedith
Summary: This story starts after Bertie has helped Edith with her magazine but before the two of them have shared their first kiss. It ends when...well, I haven't decided that yet. The story is told by Edith herself, who is - in vain - trying to stop herself from falling in love.
1. Our Night Together

I was annoyed at Papa when he said to Mary that I had a date - but deep down I hoped that it was true. Not that there would ever be anything serious between me and Bertie Pelham - I had given up hope of ever marrying when I decided to bring Marigold home from Swizerland. Or rather - of ever marrying anyone else but Michael - I didn't give up hope of marrying him until I knew he was dead.

When I first saw the letter I wondered who it was from - I had never seen Bertie's handwriting before. It was a happy surprise that it was from him - I had hoped that he would want to see me again.

...

It wasn't easy to know from Bertie's letter if it was a date or not - he wrote that he would be in London for a few days and would like to meet me if I happened to be there at the same time. To buy me that drink he hadn't been able to give me last time.

So I arranged to be in London at the same time.

He also wrote that he had enjoyed our night together - I wonder what my Granny would make of that! Well, she won't see it. But I wonder if Bertie is really so innocent that he doesn't understand how most people would interpret that.

But I guess the letter is only meant for my eyes and I know exactly what we had done and hadn't done that night.

...

Still, what happened that night is a little worrying for me even if it was all so innocent. Having him there - he had been such a great support, we had worked so well together. And although I hadn't really had time to take in how attractive he is during the night, just having him there had been a great help and comfort.

It was not until we were finished and sank down together on the sofa, exhausted but satisfied, that I really began to understand what was starting to happen to me. How very much I enjoyed his company.

Then he told me I inspired him - he is such a sweetheart!

And that smile - just thinking about him makes my heart skip a beat.

...

I try to tell myself not to get my hopes up - he is probably only being polite. And even if there is something more than that, he will lose interest as soon as he knows about Marigold. But I can't stop thinking of him, no matter what.

So now I'm looking forward to meeting him in London, just as eagerly as if I was a young girl on her way to her first ball.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment!

...

I'm stuck in chapter seven of my story _Edith._ So I thought I'd try something else, and came up with this little idea.

I have never written anything like this before - with Edith herself telling it. I can't say it feels very comfortable - I'm definitely not Edith, even though I like her a lot.


	2. A Walk in the Park

"It's not a date! He is just a friend!" I had said.

Well, who was I kidding?

...

I love Bertie Pelham.

We have spent the morning together, walking in the park and having coffee in the café there. And talking, talking, talking. And then talking some more.

I don't know why I feel so very confident when I am with him. It's like I have found a soulmate. Someone who cares about me and understands me.

There is something about him, his kindness and his tenderness, that make me almost believe - or at least hope - that maybe, maybe, someday, I will be able to tell him about Marigold, and he will be fine with it.

I almost told him today!

...

Why do I feel so secure with Bertie? It is really very strange. I have only met him a couple of times - but it feels like I've known him for a very long time.

The first time, when we first met at Brancaster, I was in a happy mode. Because the evening before Papa had told me that he knew about Marigold, and accepted her. It was such a relief. I had feared that he would find out, but that night I got to know that I had nothing to fear from him. He didn't even reproach me - he actually wanted _me_ to forgive _him!_

So meeting Bertie Pelham on the way out to the shoot was just an extra bonus. A handsome and friendly young man, who was offering me to be with him during the shoot and was interested in talking to me - well I have never been spoilt with things like that, have I. I decided to have a good time with him, and I really did, all through that day and evening when I was talking to him, playing cards with him, dancing with him.

But - to be honest - I almost entirely forgot about him during the half a year or so that went by before I met him again in London. When I looked at him after he called out my name I recognised him but I didn't remember where we had met.

Well, luckily _he_ remembered _me_ and was even kind enough to ask me out for a drink. Because if he hadn't done that, and if he hadn't volunteered to help me during that terrible night, I'm almost certain that we wouldn't have been able to finish the magazine in time. It was good to have him there, he was so calm and confident, he made me calmer and more confident too.

He was so wonderfully helpful.

...

After we had walked in the park for a while today I invited Bertie to my flat for a drink before dinner. And then I started telling him about Michael.

I told Bertie everything about Michael, or at least almost everything. Everything except what Michael and I did that last night before he left for Germany. The night that resulted in Marigold.

I told Bertie how Michael had disappeared on his first day in Germany and how he had been killed more than a year later and found dead even later than that. How Michael had made me handle his affairs while he was away, and how I found out after his death that he had let me inherit the flat and the magazine.

Michael had obviously known that he would disappear, although he hadn't said anything about it to me. He probably hadn't known that he would die, but he must have known there was a risk.

I even told Bertie that Michael was married. I told him that Michael's wife was insane and in an institution. I told Bertie that I and Michael were in love and that Michael went to Germany to get a divorce to be able to marry me. Or at least that was what Michael had said to me.

I have never told anyone that Michael was married before, and I don't know why I told Bertie. I even expected Bertie to be shocked about that, but he wasn't.

He just listened and let me tell my story. When I was finished he only asked me one question.

"Do you still love him?"

"Well, he is dead, I have accepted that. But still - I must love him - because he gave me the most valuable thing that I have..."

I was just about to tell him about Marigold then, but I hesitated. In the end I didn't dare to. Not just yet.

"The flat and the magazine?" Bertie asked.

"Yes, yes, the flat and the magazine", I said with a sigh, letting Bertie believe I was as shallow as that. "I love Michael for that."

"Yes, of course. You must", Bertie said.

"But I'm not _in love with him_ any longer", I added. "Not like that!"

Bertie seemed to be happy about that - or is it just what I think because I want him to be?

...

I don't know what will happen tonight, or after that, but I'm happy just because I will meet Bertie again in a couple of hours. I tell myself not to get my hopes up. I keep thinking that I just ought to enjoy his company and think nothing about the future, like I managed to do at Brancaster. But it is getting more and more difficult.

I think he is the sweetest man in the whole world and I love, love, love him. No matter what I tell myself.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! And thank you for the kind reviews to last chapter!

...

I've been writing other things since, but I thought I ought to finish this one before I start anything new.


	3. Love, Kisses and Tenderness

I don't know how I will be able to tell this in a coherent way. I'm simply too happy. So I just tell it in any order it comes into my mind.

I ought to sleep. But I won't be able to sleep tonight anyhow - so perhaps it's lucky there isn't much left of the night.

...

"I know you enough to think about you all the time when we're apart."

I think I have to repeat that.

"I know you enough to think about you all the time when we're apart."

Bertie Pelham really said that. I think it is the sweetest thing any man has ever said to me. It made me so happy.

...

I am so happy and I know I really shouldn't be.

The more I fall in love with him the harder it gets to tell him about Marigold.

I wasn't supposed to fall in love with him. He wasn't supposed to be so precious to me. I just wanted to spend some time with him, enjoy his company. Have some temporary fun.

It wasn't supposed to become so serious. He wasn't supposed to be so wonderful.

But he is.

...

I knew already when he helped me with the magazine how kind and capable he is. I almost fell in love with him already then.

How can one not love a man who can use a typewriter? And who is able to write three new sentences to an article about new books he hasn't even read. Three sentences that say absolutely nothing but still fit in.

I asked him where he got those abilities.

"Oh, I write business letters", he said. "I use the typewriter then. And those letters are not always so full of meaning."

...

This has been one of the happiest days in my life. It really has.

...

Bertie kissed me.

I made him kiss me - well, that's what I think. But I guess he thinks it was his own idea.

We were about to leave the flat and he helped me put my coat on. He was so near and I couldn't stop looking at him, hoping for him to kiss me. It took so long I almost started to feel ridiculous, but just when I decided to look away again I felt his hand on my back, softly pressing me closer. And then he kissed me.

If I hadn't fallen in love with him already, that kiss would have made me do so.

It was the softest kiss, so sweet and soft and tender. But still quite determined. He kissed me because he wanted to, he didn't do it to oblige me. So whose idea it was isn't easy to tell. I guess we both had the same idea. We like the same things, as he said.

"God, what a relief," he said afterwards. "I thought I might be pushing my luck."

But no, of course not. I had really, really wanted that kiss. And that kiss was so much better than anything I could even have dreamt of.

...

Then the dining, the entertainment, the dancing. Dancing with Bertie throughout the night. We were among the last to leave, they almost had to throw us out. Dancing is such a good excuse to be close to somebody, and I think that was what we both wanted. That, and more kisses.

Then the walk home through London in the quiet night. He wanted to order a taxi but I wanted to cool down. It isn't far to walk, and I didn't want him to waste any more of his money on me. I don't know what a land agent earns, but I'm sure it isn't all that much. I would have offered to pay for our dinner if I hadn't known that I would only offend him.

And that walk was so lovely. Talking and laughing and kissing. Kissing and talking and laughing.

Then one last kiss before he left me, telling me he hoped to be able to see me soon again.

...

Bertie looks at me like I was the most precious creature in the universe. He touches me so tenderly. And I'm so afraid to lose all that. I'm afraid to see his look change when I tell him and he understands what I have done. When he realises that I am 'damaged goods', as my mother calls it. Although she has never called _me_ that.

Perhaps Bertie won't be so tender with me after he finds out. Probably he won't even want to be with me any longer.

I want to get closer to Bertie, but I also want to keep him away. Because Marigold really exists, and I can't ever regret having her, just like I can't ever regret getting her back from Switzerland. And I can't ever leave her again.

Why is life so complicated?

...

No, Bertie didn't push his luck. But I'm getting more and more certain that I did.

...

And I still can't sleep.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the lovely reviews!

Please leave a comment! They are what keep me writing. And I have six unfinished stories now, this one included, as well as one or two that I haven't even started publishing.


	4. In the Nursery

I'm in love. I love Bertie Pelham in a way I have never loved any man before him.

I hadn't expected this to happen. I hadn't expected it at all. It's almost frightening how strong my feelings for him are. Because I'm rather certain this will not end well.

...

I'm back at Downton again after my date with Bertie. I returned late last evening, and I didn't see anyone until breakfast this morning. I only went in to have a look at Marigold, of course - but she was sound asleep in her bed and so were the other two children. So I only patted her hair and then I went to bed myself.

But breakfast this morning - it was really embarrassing.

"How was your date?" Papa asked as soon as he saw me. And I'm afraid that made me blush. I intended to say that it wasn't a date, but I couldn't get the words out. I love Bertie, it was a date, I can't deny him.

I'm sure it shows how happy I am. But perhaps it is less obvious how worried I am.

So Papa started teasing me.

"I see!" he said with a chuckle. "It was that good. Congratulations!" And I didn't manage to find an answer to that either.

Luckily there was no one else there, except Tom, and he only smiled at me. Tom is a very nice man, and I have many things to thank him for, not only teaching me how to drive. I guess he is the kind older brother I always wished I had.

...

Now I have escaped to the nursery and sit watching the children having breakfast. I'm going to take Marigold out for a walk when she is finished. I've missed her so much and really want to spend some time with her today.

Being with her might help me decide what to do about Bertie Pelham.

Because it isn't only the problem of Bertie accepting Marigold. Marigold has to accept Bertie also.

Bertie isn't the most important person to me, however much I love him. Marigold is. I don't want to hurt Bertie and I really want to be with him. But in the end, if I have to choose I will always choose Marigold.

When I fetched Marigold home from Switzerland I still thought that Michael was going to come back some day. But that was not the main reason I wanted her back, Marigold herself was. She isn't a reminder of Michael, she is her own person. I think every mother would understand that.

We have had our own lives together, Marigold and I, that Michael has no part in. He just disappeared. I had to go through it all by myself. I don't even know if he would have been a good father to her. I hope he would and I can feel sorry for him that he never had the chance, but there is nothing to do about it any longer and I have decided to move on.

When I took Marigold back from the Drewes I knew that Michael was dead, and that only made her more important to me.

I don't regret getting her back. In fact I think that was the best thing I have ever done. If having Marigold will make Bertie stop loving me then so be it. I'll be sad about it, but I will have to get over it. I have got over so many things in my life.

I will never abandon Marigold again.

...

"I hope I will see you soon again." That was the last thing Bertie said to me before he left me. And I - well - I'd rather want to wait some time, take it slowly, be happy about what has happened, but not rush things. Because the longer it takes for us to get closer the longer I can wait before telling him about Marigold. Telling him about Marigold or giving him up.

...

Giving up Bertie would be hard after all that has happened between us. But giving up Marigold is simply impossible.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the nice comments to last chapter.


	5. Feeding the Ducks

After Marigold had finished her breakfast we went down to the kitchen together to ask for a bag of bread crumbs to feed the ducks. Everyone there is so nice to Marigold. It warms my heart to see.

Then we went to the lake together. Marigold was running around, sometimes she was in front of me, sometimes behind me. She was happy and laughing. Perhaps she has missed me just as much as I have missed her.

The ducks came sailing on the water quacking like mad as soon as Marigold threw out her first handful of bread crumbs. Marigold laughed as she threw out handful after handful of bread crumbs to the noisy ducks.

...

When the bread was finished the ducks disappeared. Marigold and I sat down together on the bench. She was sitting on my lap, holding her arms around me in a tight embrace.

We sat there with our arms around each other for a long time. She was so still and quiet now, something seemed to be bothering her.

After a while she looked up at me with a sad face.

"Sybbie's Mama is dead", Marigold said.

"Yes, I know, my little darling", I said. "It's so sad. She was my sister. She was very lovely."

"But where is _my_ Mama, Aunt Edith?" Marigold asked. "Is she dead too?"

How I wish I could tell her!

"You know I love you just as much as your Mama would", was all I managed to say. Which is of course totally true.

"I have no one!" she said then. "George has a Mama. Sybbie has a Papa. You are Aunt Edith to all of us."

Well - I can hardly keep myself from crying when she says things like that.

"You do have someone", I said at last, fighting back the tears. "You have me. You are special to me, you know that. You will always have me. You will always be special to me. No one else in the world is as important to me as you."

I don't know if that comforted her. She was quiet for a long long time, holding me even tighter. Then she saw a nice pebble by the lake and got down from my lap to pick it up.

On the way back to the house an hour later she was running around and laughing again.

...

She isn't even three years old yet. This is going to get more and more difficult.

...

I have wondered if Michael would have been a good father to Marigold - he never showed any real interest in children. He didn't have any children with his wife, and some things he said made me believe it was by his own choice, but perhaps I misunderstood him.

That is not important now, anyway. The important thing is - could Bertie be a good father to Marigold?

Bertie loves children, I know that. He talked to that awkward little boy who was at Brancaster last Christmas with his mother, the one that Rose pretended was her friend though she really wasn't. Bertie saw to it that the little boy got a piece of cake and a glass of lemonade. I know he cares about children, that is not the only time I have noticed that.

At times I can dream of marrying someone like Bertie. To live an inconspicuous life with him and Marigold in the land agent's cottage at Brancaster. To tell the locals I was a widow and let Marigold at last call me Mama. I'm sure no one would care much about a land agent's wife anyhow.

But then again - she isn't his daughter. She never will be.

I do love little Sybbie. I also love little George, of course, he is so like his very kind father. But I know I don't love either one of them the way I love Marigold. So how could I ask Bertie to love Marigold the way I do?

Perhaps it is impossible to love some one else's child the way you love your own. And that settles it, I guess. There can never be anything serious between Bertie and me. Or between me and any other man.

I just have to enjoy the present because there will be no future. Just some fun, nothing that will last.

And that is probably all that Bertie wants anyhow.

...

What if I told Bertie about Marigold and he sold it to the gossip press? I would give him the power to ruin me. Or worse, I would give him the power to ruin Marigold.

But he is a wonderful man and perhaps I ought to trust him. But I know that my judgement usually isn't very good when I am in love.

On the other hand - people are more tolerant than I give them credit for. Both Mama and Papa have accepted and love Marigold. It would have been much better if I had told them about it already when I found out I was pregnant. They would have helped me to keep her.

So shall I tell Bertie? If it was only me, then perhaps I would do it. But not now, not yet. He can't really expect me to tell him yet.

So I will wait. I will avoid seeing him for a while and then just go out dining and dancing with him. Just have some fun, enjoy life.

Live today and forget tomorrow.

...

Then Bertie turned all my resolutions upside down when he called me on the phone.

He told me he was going down to London for some business, and that he wanted to meet me there. So he wanted to know when I would be there next time so he could arrange his business meetings so we could be there at the same time.

Perhaps he could feel my reluctance, I hadn't planned to meet him again so soon.

"I need to kiss you again", he suddenly said, sounding a little bit sulky. "I just need to. Because I keep thinking it was all just a dream."

So, what could I say to that?

"It was _like_ a dream, but it wasn't a dream." I said. "It was very real and very lovely."

Then I told him the next time I plan to go to London. And what evenings I would have time to see him. Already next week, but I didn't manage to lie.

"Alright, good!" he said. "I'll let you know when I have booked my meetings."

Then, just before I hang up, he said something in a very low voice.

"I'm so scared of losing you, Edith."

It was just a whisper, perhaps he didn't expect me to hear it at all. But I think he meant what he said.

...

No matter what I do I'm going to hurt Bertie. I don't want to do that but I have already gone too far to be able to avoid it.

Why is life so complicated? Is it at all possible to live without hurting other people?

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the kind and interesting reviews! They always get me thinking.

Please leave a review! I know they aren't showing right now because of some problem at fanficdotnet, but it has happened before and I know they will come back eventually. And I do get them by mail.


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